In Hindsight
by Hito me Bore
Summary: Baltheir and Fran had been a pair long before their encounter with Vaan in the Palace. This is a collection of short stories recounting those times when it was just the two of them.
1. Lifting

Hello! Hito me Bore here. Someone pointed out a few errors in my fic so I'm re-posting it. I'm sorry to those of you that have me on alert and were notified...with the same chapter XD. Please enjoy!

Disclamer: I don't own Balthier, but I do own (as in bought and paid for) a Balthier replica known as an action figure! Hooray for over 20 points of articulation!

XxX

Ffamran— or rather, Balthier now, exhaled. The cold night air hit his face like tiny shards of glass, and the slight wind did nothing but drive the sting in further.

Only a few hours ago, the ships had come in for the evening. The hanger was void of people, save for a few mechanics, dedicated enough to make a few last minute repairs and re-fuel the well-worked ships.

Balthier stood behind one of the large cement doors, out of sight, waiting for his chance. He had his eye on the YPA-GB47, one of the ships marked for scrapping. He figured it wouldn't be that hard to...liberate, since it was doomed to destruction anyway.

He'd first seen the ship a few weeks ago. He was waiting for his father to finish some experiment in the basement, and to pass the time, he wandered off to the air lift arena. Of course, the airship testing ground was off limits to the public, but that wasn't about to stop him.

He 'd watched them test ships before, taking his usual spot behind a pillar close to the entrance. Most of the time, they tested military ships, all equipped with missiles, lasers and many more destructive accessories. No, for what he was planning, he wanted something a little more streamline.

That day however they weren't testing bombers or carriers. Today, they released a new model, the YPA GB-47, a ship designed for a private investor.

Balthier's eyes widened as the ship burst fourth from the hanger; the loud combustion engine quieted as it ascended. It's White, violet and copper wings glinted in the high afternoon sun. It was polished to perfection from stern to hull, not a scratch on her. The sleek design allowed for minimal wind resistance, and it cut through the sky, like a flaming knife through butter.

Balthier took in the entire craft, his excitement growing.

It was beautiful, unique, majestic...he had to have it.

He had to _steal _it!

It was a few days later, when he found that the ship was marked for scraping.

How anyone could destroy something so magnificent was beyond him, but if it made it easier to take, then he certainly wasn't going to complain.

The loud "clang" of a mechanic's hammer hitting the ground brought him back to the present. It was time to make that ship his. The wings of the ship glinted in the faint light from the ceiling, as it sat unattended to on the left side of the hanger. The hatch was left wide open, no guards around; conditions were nearly perfect.

With a deep breath, Balthier made his move.

He quickly ducked behind a pillar a little off to the left of where he was standing. No one had seen him yet. He peered behind the tall cement column to get a better idea of his position. There were a few more guards around this area, and the next pillar was some ways away. If he ran to it, he would surely be caught, however if he made a mad dash for the abandoned ship, his chances were...about the same.

With another deep breath, he made a dash for the ship. He might as well go for the whole kit and caboodle.

A few mechanics called out, seeing him sprint for the abandoned vessel, and a few dropped their tools to run after him.

The sound of their feet against the concrete barely registered to Balthier. All he cared about was making it to the ship without being captured. He had gone quite a distance, but his calculations were a bit off. He hadn't expected the ship to be _that_ far away. His legs were burning and his lungs screamed for more oxygen, but he wouldn't stop; not until he was looking back at the city walls of Archades disappear into the night.

He was almost there. He could almost see his reflection on the ship's wings...

The mechanics by now had assembled a few guards, and the crowd following him had nearly reached mob size. They shouted threats and a multitude of other obscenities, but Balthier continued running anyway.

His foot made contact with the first aluminum step of the ramp leading to the hatch, and a sense of desperation filled him. He ran up the stairs, with increasing intensity, only stopping to kick the ramp over to the side to prevent any "tag-alongs."

He didn't even look at the angry mechanics and officers that were shouting at him, red faced, desperately trying to get the ladder back up. Instead, he sprinted for the cockpit. He hopped over the seat, half standing in it, and attempted to make sense of the controls with his racing mind.

Many different colored buttons sat before him, but which one would get the thing to start? If his Father's mechanical knowledge taught him anything, it was always that the big shiny red button that either meant "self destruct" or "start." He assumed the large red button in the middle of the console meant the latter, and he punched it with all his strength.

Far off toward the middle of the ship, he heard the hatch close, and through the window, he could see the horde of angry mechanics turn heel and run with the sound of the engine running. Balthier sighed in relief. He'd gotten the ship to start, now all that remained was getting out of there.

He looked over to the left, his eyes opening wide. The mechanics weren't through yet. They had moved over to the gate and started to close it. Balthier began to panic again. If they closed the gate, he couldn't very well expect to blast through the door and survive.

He swallowed, and looked at the control panel. The buttons had began blinking and beeping, and for a moment, he was lost. He had to remember what all those years of schooling, and days spent watching his father toil away in the basement of his lab. He knew so much about airships just from those instances, so why was he drawing a blank now, when it really mattered?

A loud siren went off, and red lights went off on both sides of the gate doors, as they started to shut. Balthier tried to calm himself, but the overwhelming panic of those doors shutting him in sent his senses into overdrive.

Taking in a couple of deep breaths, he forced himself to look down at the control panel and decipher the switches. What was it his father had told him?

"_The accelerator is the lever to the right of the start button. Don't get that mixed up with the landing gears. Go on and give it a try, Ffamran..." _

He swallowed, spotting the lever. He grabbed it and pulled it down as far as it would go. He could hear the gears in the ship shift and turn as it began to accelerate toward the exit. The doors had closed nearly half way, and he was a bit unsure if he would make it through.

He kept his eyes on the black night sky past the swiftly closing gates and tried to will the ship to go faster with his mind. It started rolling forward slowly at first, lifting a bit off the ground. As it got up to speed, it flew forward, knocking men and machinery out of the way. He was meters away from the gates now...feet...inches...

He closed his eyes, feeling a slight turbulence as ship's wings scraped the sides of the gate. The engine sputtered briefly once it made contact with the atmosphere, but it didn't dip at all. She remained at a steady altitude.

Balthier let out his breath, and released the accelerator he didn't realize he was still gripping. Had he...actually done it; escaped from the hanger without being caught, or crushed between two solid concrete gates?

The view of the city lights down below and the bright stars were proof enough.

He sat back in his chair and chuckled. He'd done it.

XxX

Balthier leaned back in the chair, stretching. He'd taken advantage of the auto-pilot function on the ship, and looked out over the horizon. It was early morning, but a few stars were still visible in the faintly orange sky.

He was still a bit blown away by the idea that he'd gotten away with the ship. He was now free to do as he wished. For such a long time now, he'd wanted this freedom, and it was finally his.

However, he had to admit, a twinge of something like regret was pulling at his conscience. It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd just stolen an air ship (of this he was sure), but more so, like he'd left a bit of unfinished business.

He didn't bother to inform his father of his leaving.

There was no heated argument, no threats, not even a letter explaining his reason for such a departure, and for that, he felt a bit guilty. The whole escape was fueled of nothing more than tedium. He was sick of Arcades. It was stuffy.

However, it would have been proper to tell his father of his departure before doing so. At least give him a bit of a heads up.

Balthier sighed. No, his father had plenty of notice. In truth, he was the main reason he was leaving in the first place. Since the empire had placed the duty of unscrambling the tightly woven code of Nethicite in his father's hands, the man had nearly forgotten his existence.

A short time later, his father had given him news, that his status had been "upgraded." He was then to hold the position of a judge. However, the job did little for him. As far as he was concerned, the proceedings of a judge were little more than jailing citizens and walking around in a debilitating suit of clanking iron, with hardly enough space to breathe, let alone move around.

His father seemed delighted at the idea of such high standing, so he put up with the metal suit for the grand total of three days before he could stand it no longer. The suit had been locked away in a chest, and shut inside another box, then pushed into the harbor. There the dreadful hunk of metal sank to the bottom of the bay, never to be seen or worn again.

Balthier looked out over the horizon at the quickly illuminating sky. The stars had disappeared now, and the tangerine colored sun made it's grand appearance over the horizon.

Balthier smiled. Yes, his new found freedom was indeed worth a bit of guilt.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. He wondered if his father had noticed he'd disappeared. It'd only been eight or so hours since he'd left, and he wasn't sure if the mechanics and officials could even recognize him. Either way, he was long gone, and any sort of—

BLAM!

There was a frighteningly loud explosion from the back of the ship, which nearly caused Balthier to jump from his skin.

What was it now?

He lifted himself from the pilot seat ,and as he made his way to the engine room, he found that the air was heavy with a black smoke. Becoming increasingly more alarmed, he found that the smoke was coming from the engine room. Smoke was billowing from behind the door, and he could hear faint coughing sounds.

Balthier swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Perhaps the mechanics had taken a few parts out already.

With a little effort, he managed to pry the door open. The black smoke filled his nostrils with the sent of burning oil. There was no way he'd be able to look around and check the engine with this amount of smoke in the engine room.

He started to shut the door again, when a black ball of something rolled through the door. It coughed several times, then proceeded to pull the door from his hands and slam it rather sharply.

Balthier frowned, realizing what it was. The large ears and child like posture was a dead give away.

The soot covered creature coughed a few more times, before turning its attention to Balthier.

"Next time you decide to _steal_ an airship, make sure there's no one working on the engine, Kupo!" It jumped around waving its arms about. "I could have been killed!"

Balthier sighed, watching the blackened moogle wipe the ash from its face. He should have known the hatch was left open for a reason.

"My apologies," Balthier muttered. What else was there to say? He looked down at the moogle and blinked. After it'd wiped a fair bit of ash from its face, he could make out light grey fur. He leaned in a bit closer.

Was that...?

The irritated moogle looked back up at him. He didn't take to kindly to being scrutinized. "What, Kupo?"

"...Nono?"

Its eyebrows arched fiercely. "Yeah, that's right, and you nearly burned me to a crisp! The minute you started the ship, the hatch closed, and locked me inside! Then the engine backfired, and guess who was in the way?! Me, Kupo! Of all the—"

Nono furrowed his brows, and rubbed his chin."Hey, Kupo! Ffamran!" He'd momentarily forgotten his anger. "How's it going? Kupo."

Balthier sighed, relieved. At least it wasn't one of those Archadian shipwrights. Ar

Suddenly, the low humming of the engine stopped, and the lights onboard flashed before going dim.

"What's going on?!" Balthier raced to the front of the ship. The buttons on the dashboard stopped blinking, and the front radar screen went blank. The ship lurched forward, the nose steadily dipped downwards.

Nono stood in the co-pilot seat. "Well, the main pistons have shut down, the radar isn't functioning, the transmission isn't connecting..."

"And all of this means?" Balthier asked frantically, trying every lever and button on the console, attempting to keep the ship from nose diving.

"You're out of gas, kupo."

Balthier looked out the window. The ship was plummeting to earth at increasing speed. The clouds rushed past them like white wispy stripes and the lush green earth down below was starting to get closer and closer.

"That's what happens when you steal a ship that's marked for scrapping."

Balthier shot the moogle a look. Smug remarks were not what he needed right now.

"So what are you suggesting we do?"

"Hold onto something, kupo." Nono latched himself to the chair.

Balthier swallowed, and buckled himself in the pilot seat. He hadn't left home for a day, and here he was, about to crash land back to earth in a ship he hadn't even named yet. He clearly hadn't thought this through. If he lived, he'd remember to never lift anything without checking to make sure everything was in perfect order.

XxX

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	2. When it Rains

A/N: I apologize. I've been slacking.

Disclaimer: Though tragic, I don't own FFXII

XxX

Rising from her position on a moss covered log, she looked out over the wood to get a better look. After all, it wasn't every day that a ship came careening out of the sky.

Sure enough, the ship came into contact with the ground, sending shrubbery across the land. Birds erupted from the trees, screeching raucous caws in fear.

She hopped off the log, landing on the soggy earth without so much as an underfoot squelch. Perhaps this was worth investigating. At the very least, she could pick through whatever supplies were left in the ship.

XxX

Balthier scowled, as frigid rain pelted his body. This was certainly not what he'd hoped for.

He turned around, wiping rainwater from his forehead as he inspected the ship once again. The once polished and gleaming ship hull was now scratched and sodden with mud and tree limbs. The nose was stuck deep in pool of black, sticky mud, and both wings had taken considerable damage. The engine sent off black plumes of smoke that mixed with the brumous, rain laden clouds above.

Balthier came to the conclusion that they'd landed in some forest—in the middle of a rain storm. Moss bloomed over every log, and every tree trunk in sight. Around 10 meters above, there was some sort of wooden plank path, which was also covered with moss and greenery. It was pure luck that the ship missed the path altogether, and landed a few meters in front of a tree trunk. However, there was no hope in climbing up to it, as the rain soaked moss covering all the trees offered little traction.

Balthier sighed. The crash had happened nearly half an hour before. Immediately upon impact, the ship creaked with the horrible sound of compacting metal, and the stripping of gears. Of course none of this was matched with the horrible high pitched wail coming from Nono in the seat next to him, even well after the ship had landed.

As the two of them wove themselves through of the jumble of ship parts, Nono declared that they were doomed and never to see anyone from civilization again. Balthier recalled it being nearly fifteen minutes before Nono stopped his speech of the immense suffering they were about to endure. A break only came when he spotted three slightly winded moogles appear from the brush.

They paused for a moment, catching their breaths before running up to the ship. They gave Balthier a glance before seizing Nono and pulling him off to the side. Balthier watched in wonder for a time as they chatted amongst themselves. Occasionally one would look up, but quickly returned to the conversation.

Balthier rested his hands on his hips as he waited for Nono to finish. Maybe he was asking the other three to fix the engine. From the gestures and jumps the moogles were making, he couldn't tell for sure.

A bit later, Nono nodded and waddled over to where Balthier stood, and cleared his throat.

"Well, Ffamran, it's been fun, but my services are needed elsewhere, kupo. Looks like they need help building a bungalow of some sort. A bungalow, Kupo! Can you imagine? Anyway, kupo, I'll have to catch up with you later."

Balthier had opened his mouth to protest (that was his mechanic after all), but in a flurry of awkward movements, the three moogles, along with Nono disappeared into the green brush.

He was alone, in some unknown forest, with a ship partially stuck in a pool of muck.

Yes, Balthier indeed, was in trouble.

XxX

Several hours had ticked by now, and Balthier had long given up on the idea of fixing the engine. A while ago, he'd decoded to give the thing a once over, and perhaps get it to start. His efforts, however, were rewarded with an explosion and a squirt of muck to the face. Any and all thoughts of fixing the engine had since made their way to the back of his mind.

Presently, he sat up against the side of the ship, the right wing over head sheltering him from the rain.

He looked out over the area the tall trees leading his eyes to the bridge above. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Was there anyway out of this mess? Apparently leaving in such a haste had more negative results than simply forgetting to tell his father good bye.

A _plan_ would have been good, not to mention a map, and a good deal of other supplies would have been quite beneficial. He rubbed his face. At least the rain had died down to a tranquil mist, and the clouds above, though still gray and heavy with rain, parted a bit to let some sunlight hit the ground below.

Balthier frowned standing. Maybe there was something back on the ship that could help him find a way to get out or at least distract him for a while.

He stretched, taking notice of the wet fabric of his shirt sticking to his skin. He shook his head, mumbling something about a change of clothes, before walking to the other side of the ship. However, his plans were interrupted. Balthier swallowed, ducking back behind his spot under the wing.

He could just barely make out a tall figure inspecting the outside of his ship.

Balthier swallowed hard.

The thought of being _robbed_ hadn't crossed his mind, and thus he hadn't thought of bringing any weapons with him (it seems he was lacking a bit in the preparation aspect of things lately).

Balthier held his breath as he took another glance at the figure. It was making its way toward the front of the ship, or at least the portion that wasn't buried in the mud, and looked around the left wing.

Balthier squinted, trying to make out some of the features. He might as well know what kind of person he was up against. Leaning out a little more, he decided that the figure was definitely female. He frowned. Something wasn't quite right. He stretched his neck out a bit more, trying to see through the thick mist.

...long white ears, height and stiletto clad feet, along with the claws and dangerously curving bow...

His visitor was a viera.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Balthier wanted to keep creeping around the ship and avoid her at all costs.

However, it was his ship, and having it stolen would leave him stranded. Not that he already wasn't, but it was principle.

Swallowing again, he decided that maybe reason would work. Viera, were sensible people. after all... weren't they?

He made his way around the ship, meeting the viera on the other side. She looked up at him with minimal curiosity.

Balthier cleared his throat. "I see you've noticed my ship."

The viera frowned, turning her attention back to the hull. "It seems you crashed it. The engine is clogged with mud, and there is significant wing damage."

Balthier tipped a brow.

That was odd.

"I don't suppose you know how I could fix it, do you?"

The viera smiled. "Perhaps."

The corners of Balthier's mouth curled. Maybe this situation was turning out in his favor.

"However," she turned toward him fully and placed one of her clawed fingers on her hip. "If I do help you with your ship...what's in it for me?"

Balthier had to physically force himself not to frown. He didn't have a gil to his name right now (another one of those things he'd forgotten to bring).

Rubbing his chin, he contemplated. He couldn't loose this chance. There weren't many other opportunities of him getting out of here on his own. What could he possibly offer a viera, who could really just take the ship if she wanted to?

"How about this," Balthier said motioning toward the ship. "There's an extra seat, and I could use a co-pilot. Think of it as...a partnership; no strings attached."

The viera pondered this for a moment, during which time, Balthier's nerves tensed.

After a time, she folded her arms before nodding. "It will suffice."

Balthier smiled, extending his hand. "Balthier."

Fran hesitated for a minute, before grasping his hand. "Fran."

* * *

I hope that was a satisfactory end to chapter 2! I would greatly appreciate it if you'd take a few moments to review! 


	3. Consumption

Hello, It's me again. I've actually had this document ready for a while, but I forgot to upload it... oops. Well, in any case, I hope you find it enjoyable. Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Balthier and all aspects of Final Fantasy 12, but most of us aren't that lucky now are we?

* * *

Cidolfus smiled. After weeks of locking himself in the Draklor lab, minimal sleep and endless cups of coffee, the Nethicite research had finally payed off. He held up a page of scrupulously written notes, and couldn't help but feel a bit of pride. Adding the page with a few others atop his desk, and stacking them neatly, he set them on the table and leaned back in his chair.

The empire would surely reward him generously. Would it be a promotion? A raise? A position on the council?

Cidolfus allowed these thoughts to entertain him, as he stood and stretched. He frowned as his bones cracked. In future research assignments, he'd remember not to let his bones settle so. He yawned, looking around his office. Papers were scattered everywhere, and the small stack of notes on his desk that held the results of his research seemed a bit insignificant to the clutter and disarray it took to produce them.

Books were pulled hastily from their shelves and many were open to various pages, others were shut with various objects serving as text markers. He glanced at a book with a pair of scissors jammed between the pages.

Perhaps he'd let the lab go a bit too far.

Dust covered nearly every inch of furniture, save for his desk which was covered in paper. Glass shards from broken beakers littered the floor, along with many pencils, pens, compasses and other units of measure. Dirty dishes from his occasional meal break were left on top of a table in the corner, each covered with food remnants of various ages.

The doctor wrinkled his nose. The upkeep of his lab tended to go to the back of his mind when a project such as this Nethicite research came about. He might as well do a bit of tidying up. He went about the room replacing a stack of books to their proper spots on the shelf; the more he started picking up things, the more he realized the sty his lab had become.

Since the discovery of the Nethicite's true power, and the decision to focus all artillery research on this precious stone, he'd been making steady progress in forming a sort of artificial version. A severe plateau in his findings left him in his lab for weeks researching. And finally, thanks in no small part to the persistent coaxing of his Ocurian partner Venat, he'd finally made a break through. Within a few more months, the empire would be able to use a perfect replica of the real thing.

He reached down to sweep some of the glass shards into the trash can, when a firm knock came at the door. The sound nearly floored him. How long had it been since anyone had entered the lab?

Straightening his coat, He headed for the door, opening it a few inches. The light from outside stung his eyes, and he squinted a bit to focus on the figure standing before him. It appeared to be one of the guards. His armor squeaked as he lifted his hand in a customary salute.

"Dr. Bunansa, sir."

Lifting a brow, he opened the door further. "What is it?"

The guard lowered his salute and cleared his throat. "Last night, someone broke into the hangar and stole the fleet's YPA-GB47 model airship. Though it was a private model, and marked for scrapping, the pilot's escape caused a multitude of damages including significant damage to the main gate, and loading equipment."

Cid nodded. "That's rather unfortunate, but I'm afraid I don't understand what this has to do with—"

"We believe it was Ffamran sir."

Cid looked at the guard, a little bewildered. "Were you able to catch him? Surely there's some sort of tracer on that ship."

"I'm sorry sir, but as I said, the ship was marked for scrapping. All equipment was removed, and as a matter of fact, all that was left to retrieve were the bare requirements for the thing to fly...like gas."

Cid nodded. "I see. Very well then. I will take care of all the reparation fees."

"Sir." The guard snapped his heels together in another salute and turned on his heel, walking down the long corridor.

Shutting the door, Cid made his way back down to his desk, flopping back down in the chair. His son had left? But why? He'd given Ffamran the notoriety of being a _Judge_. What better position was there other than being King?

The doctor rubbed his knuckles against his jaw. Perhaps he'd missed something. Some key sign that his son was about to take off on his own. The two of them hadn't spoken much lately, as the Nethicite project had taken much of his time.

And it wasn't as if this was the first project he'd been handed. It wasn't the first time he'd spent weeks in his laboratory working on research. It was just that this particular project was just a bit more crucial. The precious majick infused stone had the potential to destroy Ivalice, and if the Archadian fleet could just harness its power, the possibilities were limitless.

But Ffamran knew that, didn't he?

Dr. Cid, sat up in his chair and removed his spectacles, rubbing his eyes. Which role was proper to take here? The paternal portion of his heart wished to look for his son, however, as the director of Draklor, such a decision would cost precious time.

"What's troubling you, Bunansa?"

He replaced his glasses and answered the low raspy voice.

"It's nothing, Venat. We must continue research at once."

The Ocurian appeared beside him in a cloud of hazy mist, its eyes glowing brightly in the dim room.

"I could not help but over hear the mention of your son. It seems he has run away." The Ocurian hovered to his side. "I worry that this will keep you from researching things efficiently."

"Nonsense. I wish to continue research immediately."

Venat's eyes flashed. "The tone in your voice says otherwise. Bunansa, your son is old enough to realize the potential power of the Nethicite and if he wishes to waste his time flying about the sky, then so be it."

"I–I understand that." Cid spoke, stacking a few sheets of paper on his desk.

"I don't think you do." The Ocurian's voice was a bit harsher. "We don't have time to look for some rogue boy. We've just made a significant break through in the research, and there is

still much work to be done. You have to think of Archades' future."

Cid said nothing more. Venat was right. He indeed had to look out for the welfare of Archades and the production of Nethicite. It held far too much importance to be cast aside to look for Ffamran. If his son chose to go off on a whim and cruise the sky, then so be it.

* * *

Please tell me what you think in a lovely review! 


	4. Lifestyle

Disclaimer: I don't own FFXII...crap.

* * *

"Check out our merchandise! It's the final day of our end of the month sale!"

Balthier eyed the shouting vendors as they tried to lure customers to their stands. "This is certainly a quaint little town."

Fran tipped a brow. "You come to this conclusion from watching atop a building?"

Balthier straightened his throat. "Well, I'm not sure what kind of warrant Archadies has put up for the return of the ship, so we may as well play it safe and watch from above."

Fran turned to him. "And _why_ would Archadies want your ship?"

Balthier focused absolutely all of his attention on a black beetle crawling in front of his shoe.

Perhaps he should have mentioned that...

"...You stole it?" Surprisingly, Fran's tone was almost— indifferent, so much so that Balthier actually looked up. The viera seemed to be rolling the situation around in her mind for a bit, and Balthier was relieved to see her shrug, and go back to watching the people below.

Balthier smiled. He'd never expected Fran to be so...uncaring. It was a little uplifting, considering the fact that they were actually in serious trouble. After Fran's careful mechanical overhaul on the ship, she'd managed to restore the back-up engine, and the ship was able to fly for a time, on nothing but electricity in the generator. However, it was still imperative that they get some gas.

Balthier sighed. This was a particularly rural town and it seemed as though the place hardly knew what an airship was, let alone have any fuel– not that he could afford it.

Standing, Balthier dusted the bits of sand from his pants and shirt. He may as well have a look around.

"Let's get a closer look." He held out his hand.

Fran looked at him oddly before grasping it, and allowing him to help her to her feet.

Balthier climbed down the side of the building, landing into an alley below, with a cloud of sand and dust at his feet. Fran landed without a sound.

The pair made their way to the main street. Venders were still yelling their pitches at the people as they walked past.

Balthier's eyes wandered over various potions and trinkets, along with several bottles; the contents of which he didn't want to know. Honestly, his intention of landing was in fact to find gas, or food, or perhaps some of the other necessities he'd heedlessly left at home. Of corse, this was impossible due to the fact that he was profoundly short on gil.

He looked to Fran who had a distinct frown on her face. Children ran around, narrowly missing her legs as they chased one another. A few other people stared, not used to the sight of a viera.

Balthier chuckled. He was glad that he'd been able to convince her of leaving her bow and arrows in the ship.

After passing a few more tents, Balthier began to feel the extent of no gil. There were so many supplies he still needed, and he found that the few rations of food left over in the back of their ship wasn't nearly enough to last very long if it were just him, let alone Fran.

He passed a tent of armaments, this one operated by a particularly fractious seeq. However, that didn't stop Balthier from looking. He stopped in front of the humble shop, and looked over the various daggers, short swords, and...guns?

Against one of the makeshift canvas walls hung a single barrel rifle, light weight, ornate in design with an antiquated finish— the most perfect weapon of projectile warfare he'd ever seen!

He looked over at Fran who hadn't bothered to say anything. She took to looking at the bows of differing sizes and styles along the back wall.

The seeq squealed irritably. "Hurry and find somethin' you like. A fellow would like to close shop and take himself a bit of a nap."

Balthier straightened his throat. "How much for that fine piece of equipment there on the wall over there?"

The seeq gave a piggish grunt. "The Altair? Far more than your wee pockets can handle. Don't make 'em like that anymore. "

Balthier's eyes widened as the seeq continued to describe the weapon.

"Excellent firing range, minimal maintenance, heh, if I was one for the battling scene, I'd take it up myself!" He squealed jovially.

"How much is it?" Balthier asked again.

At this Fran looked up, abandoning the selection of bows, and took interest in the conversation.

"Nothing short of 30,000 gil. I ain't the hagglin' type either, so none of that bargainin' stuff. The price is the price."

Balthier nodded. "We'll think on it. Come on Fran."

Fran shot Balthier a look as soon as they were a few vendors past the irritated seeq.

"What are you planning?"

Balthier looked up at her. "If we are to continue on like this, I see it only fit that I obtain a weapon. I have to protect what's ours don't I?"

Fran narrowed her eyes slightly. "You have not the means to purchase that gun."

Balthier lifted a brow. "How did you figure that?"

Fran smirked. "You offered me a place as co-pilot on the ship, rather than offering me any sum of gil."

"Oh." Balthier shrugged. "It seemed to work out, didn't it?"

Fran remained silent.

XxX

Soon, Balthier and Fran reached the end of the street. Vendors continued to yell and shout, advertizing their supplies. It seemed that the market had gotten quite a bit larger. More people were shoving through the street. Parents were attempting to calm their children from the excitement of the crowd, loud raucous men attempted to barter with the shop owners, and women had their hands full of baskets and crates of things they'd purchased.

Fran was becoming increasingly more nettled with the size of the crowd and the noise it yielded. Balthier noticed this, and he hoped she wouldn't snap and take it out on the large crowd. He decided it was best to take her attention from the market goers.

"Do you see anything you like? Perhaps a new bow?"

She turned to him and frowned. The potions there were a frivol compared to even the most novice slave maker, and the bows they were trying to sell were ridiculously flimsy. There wasn't a chance that they'd stay together during a battle.

"I think not."

Balthier shrugged. "Alright, well, could I convince you to stand the crowd a bit longer? I want to take one last look."

Fran folded her arms. She didn't see anything there worth looking at.

They passed a few more shops, and Fran found themselves back directly in front of the armory again.

"Excuse me," Balthier walked up to the seeq, who had retreated to the back of his tent and was comfortably sitting on a wooden crate.

The seeq squealed and narrowed his tiny eyes. "What do you want?"

Balthier smirked. "I think I will take that gun." He reached forward, snatched the weapon from the wall and took off in a sprint.

Fran looked at Balthier a bit stunned, but she quickly followed him.

The seeq squealed madly, attempting to jump over the wares in front of him. One of his short, chubby legs caught the stand, and with a high pitched yell, the entire tent fell over on top of him. The confused market goers quickly started moving to the side as a man and a viera shortly behind him ran as fast as they could out of the market.

XxX

Balthier grinned. As he held the Altair in his hands. Surprisingly he'd gotten away without so much as a scratch on its perfectly crafted barrel.

Balthier continued to beam at his weapon, It was perfect. He couldn't have asked for a finer

piece. Of course, there was a multitude of things he could have stolen in place of the gun (food, a first aid kit, money, etc.), but in seeing it for the first time, much like his ship, he had to have it.

Fran was seated in the co-pilot seat next to him, arms folded looking out into the distance.

She turned to him.

"Is this what you plan to do with the rest of your life?"

Balthier looked up, caught a little off guard by the question, but then he smiled, setting the Altair by his chair.

"It wouldn't be such a bad life, would it?"

Fran said nothing, but turned her gaze back to the sky.

* * *

Well, that's that. I hope you enjoyed it! Please tell me what you thought with a review! 


	5. Switch

I'm terribly sorry! I know it's been some time since I've updated. I've been busy (slacking). I hope to have chapters posted regularly now, but I wouldn't…look too much into that...

Disclaimer: I don't own FFXII…it's tragic.

XxX

Ba'Gamnan grinned as the bar tender slid a chilled glass filled with a particularly strong sprit. The potent, yet unique taste was one only produced from the rare and especially hostile crimson serpent. Only the owner of the Sand Sea in Rabanastre knew how to brew it. Naturally, only high ranking (and well paid) officials could even afford to _look_ at the stuff; much less have it imported all the way from Rabanastre to Archades.

He marveled at the wine, the scarlet liquid glinted in the gold ambience of the bar. Even ruthless headhunters enjoyed the occasional foppish spirit.

Yes, he thought, sitting back against the cool stone counter.

Ruthless head hunter--how perfect.

Why, just last week he was instructed to go to Nalbina to bring in an alleged spy. Sure the lad had plenty of stealth training, and what not. It did little to help him though. The whole chase lasted roughly two hours and in the end, like always, he was brought back to Archades to await trial.

He would have preferred to eliminate the nuisance on sight, but Gabranth gave him specific orders to bring him in alive. Typical…

There wasn't a mark or pirate that had ever escaped the cunning and tenacious Ba'gamnan.

_Ever._

He was by far the best of the best, the creme de la creme of hunters, and the Archadian government paid him handsomely for it.

Ba'Gamnan glanced about the bar and spotted his group mates, Bwagi, Rinok and Gijuk. The trio was sitting at a table in the back, cackling like cockatrices. Rinok had indulged a bit too much and sloshed his drink about, spilling some on the table and the chairs while the other two laughed, cheering him on.

A few of the gentry that sat around in the bar whispered to one another about their behavior, and got up to leave. Ba'Gamnan rolled his eyes. Was it so hard to enjoy one afternoon without the absurdity of his comrades? He set the drink down on the counter and tossed a few gill at the bartender before hopping off the stool.

"Ah, Ba'Gamnan sir," the bartender grinned, placing a stack of papers in front of him held together with clip. "Master Gabranth instructed me to give this to you when you came to town."

Ba'Gamnan snatched the sheets from the bartender and flipped roughly through the pages.

Another mark? Already? He smirked, reading over the description. Some nameless rogue Archadian boy decided to make off with the YPA GB-47 model of the base's ship. He was also sighted in another town three days before, where he'd robbed a Seeq of his armaments. The lizard let out an unimpressed snort. This wasn't even a challenge.

"Come on you idiots." Ba'Gamnan slapped Rinok with the back of his hand, making his way to the door. Rinok muttered a sluggish "Oy" while Bwagi and Gijuk chuckled.

XxX

Balthier yawned and stretched as he made his way out of the Aerodome.

"Are you sure it was wise to dock here, knowing well that your ship was stolen?"

"Don't worry about it Fran. I changed the name." He looked up at her with a cheeky grin. "Strahl sounds much more handsome than a code, don't you think? It sort of… rolls off the tongue."

Fran nodded. "I think it's a sufficient choice."

"I was hoping you'd approve. Now, let's see if Bujerba is what everyone says it is." Balthier sighed, and headed down the path. The streets were mildly crowded, but no one was overtly loud or boisterous, so he assumed the locals were friendly enough. A few odd looks were cast at Fran though, to which she answered with a vicious glare.

Balthier chuckled. "Relax Fran. I doubt people this high in the atmosphere have much contact with Viera."

"Regardless," Fran snapped. "It is rude to stare."

"Come now Fran, maybe you'll feel better if we get you something to eat. I believe I see a bar a little further up."

Fran grunted in response, but followed him anyway.

The decision to come to Bujerba wasn't really a decision at all. The Strahl had grown tired of running on empty, and it was either stop immediately and re-fuel, or plummet into the depths of nowhere below.

Balthier had managed to convince the docking clerk that he'd be back with the funds to pay him for the gas after he finished a little business in town. He was sure the attendant had indulged a little at the nearest bar before clocking in that day anyway, so it wasn't too hard to persuade him into a dead end deal.

He wondered if this whole Sky pirate thing was as difficult as the first imagined it would be. If everything was so easily…_taken, _then why on earth weren't there more of them? Beginner's luck perhaps?

It didn't really matter. He wasn't going to waste time nitpicking fortune.

The two came upon the "Cloud Borne" in no time at all.

Balthier looked at the entrance skeptically. The varnish had worn away from the wooden door, and there were quite a few dents and unidentifiable stains along the ground. He imagined they originated from those that had indulged a bit too much.

A small frown curved across his lips as he looked up at Fran's displeased profile. It was probably a good idea to move this along before she had too much time to consider the institution.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it's a little rough around the edges, but let's see what's inside."

Balthier pushed the bar door open, holding it as Fran passed through, then entered himself. The inside of the bar was dark, and everyone from upholding members of society to judges and criminals that_ looked_ guilty were seated all about the room. Balthier chose a small table off to the side, in front of a chatty, affluent looking couple and sat down.

"It's not so bad, right?" He asked, glancing around at the rather odd mix of people.

Fran sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. It smelled strongly of liquor and smoke. "It's haggardly."

Balthier chuckled, picking up the small worn menu on the table. "I guess it isn't a gleaming bastion of riches, but beggars can't be choosy. Maybe the food isn't so bad. Let's order something to eat."

Fran folded her arms glancing in distain at the flimsy menu before her. "I'm not sure I wish to consume anything this place has to offer."

Balthier lifted a brow. "I'm not sure this is the time to be a picky eater."

Fran snorted. "if you're speaking of funds, my picky eating has nothing to do with it. We do not have the means to pay for anything…whether it be good quality or not."

Balthier sat back in his chair, a small smile playing across his lips. "What do you mean Fran?" He eyed the couple sitting in front of them as they got up to leave. The man laughed, opened his wallet and left a few bills on the table. He linked arms with his companion putting his wallet back in his pocket.

"I wouldn't dream of a dine and dash," he said, looking back down at his menu. As the two passed, he reached into the man's pocket and lifted out his bill fold.

Fran lifted a brow, watching the couple leave without the slightest indication that something was amiss.

She couldn't help but smile a little.

How convenient this pirate thing was turning out to be.

"Now then, let's see the extent of what we can order." He flipped open the slightly worn leather bill fold, and peered inside. A grin flashed across his face. "Order whatever you like."

XxX

Not far from the Cloud Borne, Ba'Gamnan and his piebald crew of Bangaa entered the sky city.

"Why are we here big brother?" Bwagi snarled, weaving his way through the light crowd of the Aerodome.

"We have a new target, idiot." Ba'Gamnan snapped, adjusting his bangansaw. "One of the locals from that unsavory little market city was able to identify him with a picture. He even mentioned that the target was traveling with a Viera." He looked around suspiciously at a man that passed him. "Honestly, this is making my job too easy. Bujerba's the closest city. Any stupid pirate would come here first."

"Well, where do we start then?" Rinok rubbed the back of his head as he looked around. "Bujerba's not exactly the most easily navigated city we've ever been to. Aye, there are so many alleys..."

The head hunter smirked. "We start where we always do…the nearest pub. The Cloud Borne... Any fresh pirate delighted with his recent good luck would stop for a bit of a drink afterward! Besides," he said, rubbing his jaw. "I'm in the mood for a good spirit."

The four of them chuckled at that, heading off to the Cloud Bourne. Ba'Gamnan liked to cap off any of his endeavors with a drink. Besides, it wasn't often that they received word to collect a novice pirate. If the job wasn't particularly challenging, why not take out the target and enjoy a nice bit of drink at the same time?

Ba'Gamnan led the way, his three siblings walked casually behind him as they made their way to the Cloud Borne.

"Here we are." Ba'Gamnan sneered. "Let me get a look at that wanted poster." He snatched the paper from his brother and snarled. "He's not even that old…eh…let's be quick about it." He shoved the door open, causing the door to slam against the wall.

The motley assortment of customers looked up, as the Bangaa entered the room. The spinning circular blade of his weapon caused more than a few of them to avert their gazes.

"Alright," the headhunter shouted. He didn't favor subtle entrances. "Stay where you are and you'll leave with your lives!" Ba'Gaman scanned the bar, meeting a few frightened customers eye to eye. "I'm lookin' for a kid. He made off with an airship a little while ago. Anyone know anything about that?"

Gijuk Rinok and Bwagi remained at the entrance hissing hysterically as Ba'Gamnan over turned a table. The man hiding behind it gave a yelp, scooting backward across the floor.

"Hm…not you." The bangaa continued to make his way around each of the tables examining the patrons.

As Ba'Gamnan passed a few tables behind them, Balthier leaned in toward Fran, speaking softy.

"What's this about?"

Fran glanced toward Ba'Gamnan, who was comparing the wanted poster to a man at the table to the left. A frown crossed her face. "It would seem as though you are a wanted man."

Balthier frowned, whispering harshly. "What? Already?!"

Fran didn't bother to respond, as Ba'Gamnan's obtuse shadow hovered over the table; a triumphant grin spread across his features. "Well, that didn't take long, now did it?"

Ba'Gamnan lowered his head, slamming his fists on the table. "It seems someone from the Archadian mechanical fleet is interested in your return, and I'm sure a grubby little Seeq would be interested in the return of his gun too!"

Balthier swallowed, not quite sure how to react to such a speedy capture. He looked at Ba'Gamnan, then at Fran, then back at Ba'Gamnan.

The Bangaa spoke loudly, his breath smelling faintly of alcohol. "I've got a nice iron jail cell picked out for 'ya back home, and you can bet you'll be spending the rest of your days there." He paused, shaking the small table back and fourth. "Stealing an Aircraft from the government, even if it is scrapped, is capital offence. Prepare to spend the rest of your worthless life rotting behind bars!"

The head hunter gave a stiff nod at Rinok, who clumsily made his way to his older sibling's side. "Yeah?"

Ba'Gamnan snatched Balthier's wrist, slipping a pair of steel manacles to his.

He pulled away in protest, but the manacles proved their duty, holding strong. Rinok pulled a pair of cuffs from his waist pouch and snatched up Fran's arm. "You too missy! As an accomplice! You'll rot in jail just as long as he does."

Fran's scarlet eyes darkened.

"I should think not." With a velocity Balthier didn't know Fran possessed, she kicked the table, knocking both Bangaa backward into a pillar near the center of the room. Balthier looked precariously at her catching onto the distraction. "I take it you don't much like being chained up."

She growled, pulling the chains apart as if they were thin knitting yarn. "We take our leave."

He nodded, swiftly making his way toward the door.

Ba'Gamnan growled from his position on the floor. The table lay before him split in half, while his sibling sat back on the floor, a bit dazed.

"Get them!" He shook his head, freeing himself of bits of wood and dust. He stood a bit wobbly, withdrawing his Bangangsaw. "Gijuk! Bwagi! Don't let them get away!"

The two Bangaa stood frigid by the door, managed to maintain a rather shaky barrier between themselves and the door, but Fran swung her leg at them, shattering the door and frame above their heads.

With what sounded like a strangled scream, the two Bangaa landed out into the street.

Passers-bys stopped to watch the commotion at the Cloud Borne. A rather strange pair were running toward the Aerodome.

"Get them!" Ba'Gamnan scrambled through the broken doors, slicing more of frame with his spinning blade in the process. "Don't let them make it back to their ship!"

Balthier hurried to catch up with Fran, just managing to stay a few strides behind her. Ba'Gamnan and his crew were only a few meters behind him.

Fran scoffed looking behind her. It seems we have to run from our meal after all."

Balthier huffed as he attempted to catch up to Fran. "It looks that way. Let's at least try and make it to the ship hm?"

The Aerodome was in sight now, but, but Ba'Gamnan was closing the distance. He slashed his Bagangsaw around haphazardly as he followed the pair into the Aerodome. The few passengers meandering around the port rushed to get out of the way as Balthier and Fran sprinted to the dock.

"Stop!" Ba'Gamnan hissed, at his companions. "We'll stop them from here." He slammed his fist on the information desk. The receptionist offered him a meek smile. "Find the YPA-GB47. Do not allow it to take off! It's a stolen ship!"

She swallowed hard, typing in the name. "Yes sir…um…" She chewed her lip, "I—"

"Spit it out woman!"

"I-I'm sorry sir, but there isn't a ship docked here under that name."

"What?!" Ba'Gamnan yelled. "That's impossible! Check again." By then, the sound of combusting engines and compressing air shot through the Aerodome.

Ba'Gamnan clenched his fists, yelling a multitude of obscenities.

"Looks like he got away," Rinok said.

Ba'Gamnan slapped his temple. "Shut-up! He didn't get away! No one has ever gotten away..."

Bwagi started to say something, but Rinok shook his head, cutting him off.

XxX

"Well," Balthier sighed, fishing around awkwardly in his pockets. "I wasn't expecting that."

Fran frowned. "You stole an airship. It makes sense that you'd be sought after."

Balthier grinned, delighted that he'd found the small hook he was looking for. "It looks like we're going to have to worry about head hunters now." He rattled it around the inside of the lock until the handcuffs fell to the floor.

Fran lifted a brow. "You chose to live this way."

"And you chose to live this way with me. Even so, I think we'll do just fine, especially if they try to handcuff you again."

Fran allowed herself to smile a little. "A valid point."

Ballthier nodded. "Well, where to now?" He sat back in his chair.

"We have fuel now, so there isn't any immediate emergency to attend to."

"In that case, I propose we find something worth our time. Something to benefit us…financially."

Fran folded her arms. "A head hunter isn't something that would deter you?"

"Not especially, no."

"In that case," Fran said with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Let us be off."

* * *

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you'll leave a review.


	6. Lesson

Hello everyone! I made an effort to update sooner than I have been! I know it has still been quite a while, sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own FFXII...don't rub it in.

XxX

Balthier snorted, looking across what he supposed was supposed to be a town

Balthier adjusted the Altair tied to a thin leather sling behind his back. He looked across what he supposed resembled be a town. He could have been mistaken though. Instead of stone buildings, or any sign really, of industrial progress, there were small tents, constructed with the minimum requirement of supplies to keep them standing.

There weren't many people around either, just a few older men and women doing minor and otherwise useless maintenance of their property before bed.

It wasn't the really the third-world look of the town that bothered him (if Fran was confident enough to suggest it, he hesitated to complain); everything seemed to be covered in a thin, but solid layer of dust.

He mumbled something inaudibly as he rolled his sleeves up.

Fran turned, lifting a brow, at her partner. "You seem…displeased."

"Nonsense," He replied, patting invisible dust particles from his clothing. "I'm just not sure what you hope to gain with all of this."

Fran snorted and started walking down the dirt path leading to the town.

"There is a ruin, adjacent to this town. Would you not expect to find treasure there?"

Balthier looked over his clothing again, checking for more dust, before following her. Fran had a point. Any fallen kingdom worth keeping around was more than likely full of hidden treasures.

However…

He looked down at the sandy dirt clinging to his shoes.

Wouldn't a town so close to an ancient ruin at least attempt to tidy itself up a little? For comparison's sake!

But he was a pirate, and he didn't expect the job to go without its share of unsavory tasks. He just hoped future ventures would be a little kinder to his wardrobe.

"Where is this ruin exactly?" He quickened his pace to keep up with his partner.

"Not far. We need to pass through this town, and we will arrive shortly."

He considered prodding Fran further, insisting if she was sure, but he decided against it. Instead, he busied himself with noting the villagers as they stopped poking around in their tents to look at Fran.

Her jaw tightened considerably, but she said nothing, as she continued her long even strides toward the ruin.

Balthier had to admit, Fran took the strange looks she received quite well for someone that received so many just from walking through a town. However, he most likely would have joined the others in their gawking, if he wasn't in need of her help some time ago. Viera just weren't a common sight in public.

From the few lessons from his world affairs tutor that weren't garnished with nationalistic exclamations, little of them actually involved Viera. He knew they weren't very social, as they chose to spend their lives hiding away in Eryut village.

Fran of course, had been the exception. He was still rather curious as to Fran's reasoning for leaving the wood, but hadn't bothered to ask. There were much more important matters to tend to at the time, but now that they had a bit of leisure time, he wondered if now would be a proper time to inquire further.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as he tried to form his questions into tactful words. Though he'd traveled with Fran for a little over a week now, he found he could never really pinpoint exactly what it was Fran was thinking. On top of that, he wasn't entirely sure Fran even _liked_ him yet.

So far, Balthier made sure everything he said to his partner was carefully selected, and said with the utmost caution. Balthier had seen a portion of Fran's rage back at the Cloud Borne, and he wasn't in any hurry to have that force directed at his person, especially for an ill asked question.

He looked at Fran from the corner of his eye, checking for any sign of hostility, before speaking. He was pleased to find that she looked serene, almost indifferent, as they made their way down the path.

"Fran," shifted his shoulders readjusting the Altair. "What exactly is it you hope to gain in this?"

Fran lifted a silver brow, looking down at her partner. "I am positive we venture to find treasure."

Balthier shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Of course. Why _else_ would they be in this ridiculous town?

"No, what I mean is, why pirating? I wouldn't expect that from a--"

She shook her head. "I left the Wood for a reason Balthier. Would you not think I did so to see more of Ivalice? It just so happens pirating holds my interest at present."

Balthier smiled. Perhaps he should start expecting dead end responses from Fran. "That makes…sense, but why?…I don't know. There are other ways to see the world."

Fran smirked as they rounded a corner. "As I said, this current venture holds my interest at present. Don't be so eager to change my mind."

Balthier shook his head. "I'm not. I'm just curious. Anyone would be."

"I am accustomed to you Humes and your curiosity."

Balthier studied her face, as she responded. As usual, the tone of her voice did little to suggest any intent by the statement, be it to be threatening or friendly. However, her face didn't reveal anything either.

"Is that meant to be an insult?"

"You may take it however you wish."

Balthier sighed. It was a little bit of an uphill battle trying to understand Fran, but he wasn't discouraged by it. He was starting to feel that Fran's frankness wasn't so much of a defense mechanism as it was a cultural issue, and he supposed she embodied what it was he really wanted to gain out of leaving Archades.

She was different, and as to be expected from someone of a different culture, had quite a unique perspective of things. He left home to seek freedom, and Fran was exactly that. She seemed to act on whatever terms she'd set for herself.

It wasn't long before they reached the ruin Fran had decided they were going to explore. There was a cave like structure a little further up. In Balthier's opinion, the cave maw matched the town perfectly: dull and unstable.

"We will look through the cave first." Fran spoke evenly. "I imagine other bandits before us have collected anything of any value outside of it."

Balthier nodded, and tried not to wince as he thought of entering. Perhaps the bandits had the right idea in only taking the external relics. Fran noticed the slight shift of his posture.

"Are you afraid?"

Balthier shook his head, as he took to pulling at the wrinkles in his shirt. He wasn't afraid, but he couldn't deny a very prevalent bit of apprehension. A pampered boy from Archades with little experience with anything outside the realm of schematics and mechanical tinkering would undoubtedly have a problem with fiends or whatever else lurked in caves.

But, for the sake of finding real treasure, he tucked his fears away in favor of strong, fearless front and started off inside.

The cave had the humid, stale, dirty air sent he expected to be in any cave. The atmosphere just brushed uncomfortably humid, and Balthier knew before long, he wasn't going to enjoy walking around in it. He was, however, pleasantly surprised to find the enclosure to have a bit of light. The walls (if one could call hardly stable blocks of severely weathered stone a _wall_) were lined with small, but effective torches that flickered in the rapid wisps of mist. It did little to ease him though. Though the dilemma of proper lighting was taken care of, the ever changing current of mist started replaced it.

Fran was well aware of the mist present within the cave. Her sensitive nose gave an inquisitive twitch and her eyes flickered. Balthier stood silently next to her, as she continued a silent, careful survey of the cave. After a few moments, the Viera seemed to relax a little.

"The mist here isn't strong, but it is prevalent. We tread with little worry of significant trouble."

Balthier lifted a brow at his partner. "And you came to this conclusion by merely sniffing the air?"

Fran's lips curved into a half smile. "Hume, you have much to learn of the Viera."

The young sky pirate couldn't help but smirk at this. "Perhaps you could clear up a bit of my confusion." Balthier was sure he heard a small snort escape the her, but he couldn't be sure.

"Viera are sensitive to the mist. Its patterns, its strength; it effects us accordingly."

"I see…so that means I've got the best Mist detection resource traveling alongside me."

"I have seen no one more efficient, yes."

That was all the reassurance Balthier needed. A bit of his original fear was replaced with curiosity and excitement. He had the opportunity to see magicite in its rawest form. Magicite fueled nearly everything with any sort of technological dealings all over Ivalice, and here it was in its pure, unrestrained state; free flowing and unpredictable.

However, even a small current of Mist had the ability to harbor the unknown and frightening, and a run in with a beast was likely.

But there was the Altair…

A smile tugged at his lips. He did just liberate a first class weapon, and this gave him the perfect opportunity to use it. He shifted the cool metal barrel on his shoulders, ready to use it if need be. Why go through the trouble of stealing it if he wasn't going to fire it?

XxX

"Is this path leading us anywhere?" Balthier asked after a time. They'd been traveling for nearly half an hour. Though the path twisted, and looped around several times, he had failed to see anything that even remotely resembled treasure. On top of that, Balthier's skin had developed a healthy sheen of sweat. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to remove a bit of perspiration from his forehead, and loosened the top few buttons of his shirt in an effort to cool himself down a little.

It didn't do much good, and he was starting to get just slightly annoyed with the same uninteresting scenery.

"Fran?" he asked, looking at his partner. His intention wasn't to complain, he just wanted some assurance that they were close…or at least going in the right direction. She seemed to know where she was going, but he wanted to make sure. Her rich ebony skin hadn't eluded the humid environment either. It glistened with perspiration in the dim light of the tunnel.

"Is there and end to all of this?"

"Patience, Balthier. I merely follow the direction of the wind current. When it becomes more concentrated, we will find an end to the path."

"..and we hope there is treasure present?" He sighed. "I had hoped to find it by now…"

Fran tipped a silver brow in Balthier's direction. She wasn't quite frowning, but there was a fair bit of admonition in her voice. "You are in a hurry. Have you already thought of ways to spend our fortune before we have found it?"

Balthier shook his head, waving his hand back and fourth. "Nonsense. I'm just eager to find what's to come of this trip."

Fran offered him a simple closing statement that was just as dissatisfying as Balthier expected it to be.

"We will have to see where the wind leads us."

Balthier offered a sigh, and continued walking. There was a small patch in the middle of the trail that opened up a bit into a rocky, much more eroded path than the one they had been traveling thus far.

Balthier had to admit he was glad for the slight change in scenery, even if it was little more than a few extra rocks on the path. He kicked one of the rocks, sending it with a sharp crack down the long rocky path. As it hit the wall somewhere a little further up, he could hear the sound reverberate back to him in eerie hollow waves. Fran shot him a look, but the young pirate was taking more notice of his surroundings.

He hoped they were getting close. He couldn't really sense changes in wind patterns like Fran could, but he could definitely tell the air was a bit thicker. The temperature had dipped a little bit as well. For this, he was grateful. He no longer had to concentrate on the horrors of over heating, and his mind was free to focus exclusively on treasure and any means necessary to acquire it.

They ventured quite a bit further ahead. The paths twisted and branched off. They checked many alcoves in hope of finding treasure, but they were all empty.

Sighing, Balthier led the way down another path, but this time, instead of seeing more endless pathway, he was rewarded with the glorious little chest placed right against the wall.

He grinned, but as he started toward it, he realized something was off. Fran could sense it too, as she stopped in her tracks, and used her delicate ears to pick up the changes in the surrounding. From somewhere a little further up, she could make out soft, but very high pitched shriek.

The two chose not to venture any further, and instead, hid behind a dip in the cave wall. Balthier was perplexed. The sound certainly wasn't akin to any Hume's timbre. As they waited to consider the source of the awful screeching, it seemed increase in volume, then die away slightly, only to increase again.

Leaning to the side of the wall, Balthier decided to do a bit of further inspecting. He couldn't see anything specific in the dim light of the cave other than the taunting treasure chest, but he could make out something black, or dark brown hovering…flapping near the center of the path.

Eyebrow tipped in irritation, Balthier abandoned his hiding spot altogether, and stood akimbo in the path once again.

"I believe our precautions went toward identifying a bat."

Fran frowned. She wasn't quite ready to agree that the source of their trouble was nothing more than a paltry cave bat. It was something about the shrill scream of the creature. Bats used almost inaudible echolocation to find their prey, and would more than likely be out for a feed at this point in the evening. She straightened her posture against the wall a little, and watched her partner shake his head in disbelief.

"Come on Fran. We can walk right past it." He started down the path.

Sighing, Fran emerged from her place beside the wall. "Balthier, I'm not so sure we should proceed without further caution." She paused as she caught sight of the creature. As its lazy flight pattern dipped a little toward the light on the side of the cave, Fran could make out the lemon colored eyes as they nearly glowed in the faint light of the cave. "That is a steeling."

Baltheir stopped and turned to Fran. "A steeling…? What is--"

A piercing scream burst through the tunnel as the steeling caught sight of Balthier's form standing in the middle of the walk way near the treasure. It angled its deep russet wings toward the ground for maximum speed as it raced toward Balthier's head.

It took little time for Fran to react. She already had her bow drawn and arrow pulled taut before the creature had enough time to open its maw. With a nearly inaudible "thwok," she released the arrow. It surged through the air with amazing accuracy, pinning the unfortunate steeling between the wall and ceiling of the cave.

Balthier grimaced as bits of gore and mucous dripped from the animal, sliding down the shaft of the arrow for an unpleasant plop to the floor. Fran took her time replacing the bow to the sling she kept it in behind her back, and joined Balthier a little further up the path.

"Perhaps you will heed my warning next time?"

Balthier suppressed the steadily forming lurch in his stomach, and tried to offer his partner a sheepish, yet collected grin. He was allowed one bobble or two, and after nearly having his head taken off by steeling, he would surely never mistake one for a harmless cave bat ever again.

"You can count that as one miss for today. Rest assured, I'll get the next one."

Fran looked up with a start. She quickly withdrew her bow. "You have your chance." She set another arrow and pulled it taught. "Steelings rarely travel alone."

The young sky pirate had no time to gape in surprise as two more steelings made their way up the path at an alarming speed. He could hear the sound of their wings pushing hard through the air in an effort to respond to the distressed cry of the first one.

Balthier couldn't help but let a small grin pull at his lips as he removed the Altair from the sling around his torso.

Fine. Though he assumed Fran's reply was her attempt at sarcasm, he intended to prove to her that he was perfectly capable of taking out the rest of the steelings on his own. He'd spent enough time tinkering around in his father's lab and weaponry to know at least the basic workings of a gun. Just because he'd never fired a gun of this caliber before didn't mean he couldn't.

And no steeling was going to keep him from his treasure.

He glanced in Fran's direction once again, just to make sure she was watching, and then lifted the gun in his right hand. He held it steady, aiming at the oncoming steeling. The weapon wasn't nearly as heavy as he first imagined it to be (he was grateful for this). The steeling was only a few meters ahead now, and he could just make out two sets of glistening white fangs in the dim light of the cave.

That was close enough.

He lined the target up with the front and rear sights and squeezed the trigger.

Fran's winced as the sharp sound of a firing gun stung her sensitive ears. She turned around to see her partner recoil with the blast. He stumbled backward, and the bullet, needless to say, went a bit off course. Bits of rock and sand exploded from the cave wall, next to the targeted steeling.

Fran looked at him with mild irritation. Perhaps she should have just shot the creature herself.

Balthier grunted as he shook the slight burning sensation from his arm. It didn't hurt much, but it did feel like a better portion of his bicep and wrist had been slapped from deep beneath his skin.

What the Altair lacked in weight, it made up for in power. It didn't fire like the normal hand guns he was used to, or even the single barrel rifles his father let him test out in the courtyard with the diskettes…

Never the less, a bullet to the wall and a shower of rubble weren't going to do much more to the Steelings then confuse them a bit. He was going to have to figure out how to use it.

He aimed the gun again, just as before, but adjusted his grip on the weapon. With the Steelings plainly in his sight, he fired…and missed, but the kick back wasn't nearly as bad as his first shot.

He fired again…and missed…

Fired…and clipped one of the steelings on the wing.

Baltier allowed himself a small smile as the creature flew in agitated circles trying to right itself. He fired again and again, not entirely sure if he killed all of the steelings. The cave was old and rocky, and when the bullets made contact with the cave wall, it released quite a bit of rubble. The resulting dust obscured almost everything Baltheier fired blindly into the haze with a vague idea of what he was hitting.

Fran put her bow back in the sling and watched on as Balthier continued to fire at the steelings. It he didn't hit at least one in all of those shots, they were in serious trouble.

After a few minutes of repetitive bullet firing, Balthier lowered the Altair. He panted, and wiped the perspiration that had collected above his brow with his sleeve. He was out of breath, but he wasn't discouraged. He was, in fact quite excited for the smoke to clear.

He looked at Fran and gave her a confident, but slightly strained smile. The look on the Viera's face wasn't exactly pleased, but he didn't detect anything more menacing than slight irritation from her. That was fine. Once she saw how he'd killed the steelings and seized the treasure, she'd feel differently.

It wasn't long before the dust cleared, and Balthier could see the fruits of his bullet salvo.

Balthier had to hold in a gasp as he saw the steelings before him. He'd hit them, that was for certain, but they no longer resembled the bat-like creatures that had fluttered about the cave before. He felt a bit hypocritical about grimacing at the condition Fran had left the steeling she'd killed in. It paled in comparison to the amount of gore left after Balthier's onslaught.

He looked at the Altair and decided it would be best to handle it with a bit more caution that he had thought to earlier. Carefully, he slipped it back in the sling, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well then, it looks like I got rid of the problem didn't I?"

Fran's ears twitched. "It took you nearly fifteen shots to do so."

He cleared his throat and smiled at her good naturedly. The comment deflated his ego a little, but he had a feeling Fran wasn't going to bite back her comments on that account. He cleared his throat again, offered Fran an uninterested shrug. He wasn't going to let it get to him too much.

"The important thing is we managed to retireve the treasure." He fished around in his pockets for the metal hook he had used to unlock his handcuffs from earlier, and poked around the inside of the treasure chest lock until he heard a small click.

"Now then, let's see what we've got." Balthier didn't bother to hide the grin on his face as he lifted the lid. He supposed it was true what they said about how much more rewarding the end was when the means to get it were especially difficult.

"Hm…" he said rubbing his chin. "Not…exactly what I was expecting, but it will do."

Fran lifted a brow. "What is it?"

"See for yourself." He pulled a small, but reasonably valuable amulet from the chest. It was old, and dusty, but with a bit of polish, it could be restored to its former luster. "I'm not entirely sure what this thing is for, but I'm sure we can sell it for a good bit of gil." He frowned. "Though selling the items we collect doesn't sound like something I want to get into the habit of."

Fran sighed. "It won't do us much good to keep it around. I am not greatly familiar with the importance of Hume relics."

Balthier stood and dusted off the bits of gravel that had collected on his knees. "Alright. We'll sell this, and split the profit evenly."

"That is fair."

Balthier nodded. "To the next order of business." He paused to look around the cave. "I don't suppose you remember which directions we took to find this little spot do you? Maybe you left a trail of bread crumbs while I wasn't looking?"

Fran's nose twitched; a gesture that Balthier imagined could have meant anything. "We will use the same method we used to before; by listening to the change in wind current. Though I do not know how quickly this will get us to the opening." She turned gaze down the long pathway. "Navigating a cave for alcoves is not the same as looking for an exit."

"I imagine this will take a while?"

Fran's brow wrinkled in realization. "Perhaps."

"Well," Baltheir said, starting down the pathway, artifact in hand. "I suppose we should be on our way then? I don't want to leave the Strahl on its own for too long."

"Alright."

They made their way through the tunnel. Though Balthier was sure the amulet they found wasn't worth the trouble it was to find it by even a fraction, he was glad he was able to get a little practice with the Altair. At the very least, whatever money he was able to make from selling the amulet could be put toward more ammunition…or perhaps for a few alterations on the Strahl.

And Fran, he found to be increasingly more helpful in particularly daunting tasks. It would seem he'd done a rather handsome job of picking a proper co-pilot. Sure she was a bit of a tough code to crack most of the time, but he was confident he'd find a way to figure her out.

* * *

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I hope you'll take just a moment more of your time and send me a review!


	7. Upgrade

Hello again! I think I'm starting to update a little faster…right? Anyway, Thank you for all of the reviews. It makes me so very happy! I hope this chapter is satisfactory…

Disclaimer: I don't own FFXII

XxX

Balthier grinned, as he stood arms akimbo on board the Strahl.

That artifact was worth quite a bit more than he'd first imagined.

A great deal more.

That morning, he and Fran had decided to cash in the amulet (what good did it do to keep it around anyway?). With the relic in hand, Balthier was ready to convince the tender to raise the trade from a sum hardly worth the trouble it was to get it, to something barely sufficient, but he was pleasantly surprised.

The tender was more than happy to pay a fairly decent amount of gil for it.

Balthier assumed the old Bangaa was either missing some vital brain cells, or the thing really was worth something. Either way, the gil was the only thing that concerned him.

He grinned, and started down the bridge to the pilot seat, when a very distinct rattle caught his attention.

It wasn't the engine…or the paneling.

He wrinkled his nose in mild irritation, as he noted the grated steel platform of the bridge rocking back and fourth on its frame under his weight. He couldn't live with that noise for too much longer; it would certainly need fixing. He stopped to tap his toe against the loose platform. There were a few other things he wouldn't have minded adjusting either.

The rattling bridge aside, it wouldn't hurt to replace the present running functions of the Strahl with a newer, more efficient magicite system…

He let his eyes wander up the slightly worn interior walls, and ceiling. Everything was in fairly decent shape, but he wasn't too fond of the chrome molding around the frame. It didn't really match the classic color scheme of the rest of the interior.

He snorted. Apparently the last owner didn't have too keen an eye like styles.

He couldn't help but chuckle at himself. Though he'd tried to shake almost every bit of Archadian from his being, he'd lived there far too long to escape at least a little conditioning. Archadians he supposed had a keen eye for style and quality. Even a Scientist's son, who, spent most of his time creating his own adventures in the slums of Old Archades could point out things of good quality.

He seated himself in the pilot's seat and drummed his fingers on the arm rest. He had to give himself a little credit though. It took a little while for him to notice all the little imperfections that came with the Strahl. Of course, he really hadn't had the time to consider the fine tuning of the ship, what with the initial crash, and escaping three head hunters and all.

He shifted in the chair

That would need new upholstery too.

Fran looked at the slightly miffed expression on her partner's face as he shifted around in the chair. "Does something bother you Balthier?"

He met her expression with a grin. "It's nothing." He shifted around for a few moments longer before sitting back with a sigh. "Hm…Fran? Have you given any thought as to what you want to do with your half of the profit?" Maybe some conversation would keep his mind from all the little things that annoyed him so.

The Viera frowned, and narrowed her eyes. "I have seen very few Human wares to be of any use as of yet."

The sky pirate chuckled. He expected her to answer similarly, as she called nearly everything constructed by Hume hands low quality, but he certainly couldn't denounce another with the same persnickety taste in sundries as he.

"What is it you intend to do with yours?" Her eyebrow arched slightly. He started to feel just the slightest bit uncomfortable about voicing his intentions, as Fran never put things mildly.

He opted for a shrug. "I think I'll put most of it toward a few maintenance things. You know, an updated piece of Magicite perhaps…and if I can manage to make the gil stretch, a few aesthetic…modifications…"

Fran lifted her eyebrow. "You don't intend to steal these things?"

Balthier shook his head. "It's far too much trouble to steal such large parts for a ship. On top of that, I don't have the necessary equipment to do so. As you can imagine, a piece of Magicite for a ship this size wouldn't fit into my pocket. Besides," he added with a grin. "We just managed to acquire a nice little sum of Gil. Would it not be proper to spend a little of it?"

The corners of Fran's mouth lifted into a slight smirk. "This makes sense…and I imagine you have some place in mind to acquire more advanced ship parts?"

The pirate laced his fingers together behind his head and sat back in the chair. She always seemed to challenge his plans, and he was (most of the time) ready to reply with a well thought out, or at least _creative_ response. "I would think the son of a Cidolfus Bunansa would know of a few places to find some spare parts. After all, one needs to know where to find certain equipment when special projects for the government are under way."

This seemed to satisfy her. "Then which way from here?"

"Northwest," he said. "There's a man there that knows a few things about airship parts." He sat up, and pressed a button on the dashboard shifting the Strahl from auto pilot to manual. "And if he can't help us, I can think of at least a half dozen more that can."

XxX

Balthier looked up at the sky. The sun was starting to set, and the temperature wasn't quite as warm as it was earlier that afternoon. He was a little bothered by the fact that it had taken so long to find all the parts they'd needed.

Finding the Magicite was only a little taxing, but as soon as they found it, Fran pointed out that the Strahl didn't have the proper converter for the new piece…and that seemed to happen each time Balthier wanted to upgrade a part: As soon as he found one piece, and he realized he needed three more just for the initial piece to work…

This, in turn, did quite a bit of damage to his wallet. With the need for so many parts (that weren't exactly fairly priced), his money reached the critical level in no time.

Fran had decided to add her half of the amulet profits to Balthier's dwindling share near the end, under the excuse that she wouldn't have found anything better to spend hers with anyway.

With Fran's gil, he could at least pay for the major upgrades, and the last part was finally being loaded into Strahl.

He eyed the junkyard owner as he controlled the machine lifting the parts to his ship. The old man had stared at his ship for quite a while before agreeing to give him the parts, and it made Balthier a little uneasy. Sure he knew his ship was of the finest caliber, and the dealer no doubt had an eye for such thing, but with the likes of Ba'gamnan after him, he couldn't be too careful.

The man hadn't made any attempts to try and contact any sort of authority, so Balthier decided he could relax a little. He still planned to leave quickly. It was best to work away from the dealer, or anyone who could identify his ship.

Fran watched as he disconnected the lift from the ship and started back to the Strahl.

"It is getting rather late. It would be best to start repairs early tomorrow."

When Fran's emotionless voice reached his ears, Balthier hesitated, but nodded in agreement. He knew it wouldn't have been a particularly wise choice to start installing parts so early, but when said _out loud_, there was this sort of depressing _finality_ about it.

He followed her towards Strahl.

"Wait a minute!"

Balthier turned around. He certainly didn't know anyone that would recognize him in this junkyard. He squinted into the faint darkness. He couldn't quite make out who (or what) it was, but he waited patiently, as it jumped up in the air and waved its arms.

As it came closer, Balthier could make out a childish height, and rabbit like ears.

He placed his fists on his hips, and couldn't deter the scowl as it completely took over his expression. "Is that you Nono?"

The creature made its way to Balthier and Fran and stopped to catch his breath. "None other! Kupo."

Fran lifted a silver brow, and shifted to get a better look at him. She wasn't surprised, as she'd seen plenty of moogles before. Many years ago, when she first began exploring the Hume world, she'd built up a little resentment toward the moogles. Younger Humes would often confuse her with them. It was rather insulting to be misnamed as a creature roughly four times as short as she.

Now though, she only thought of them as a weird, bubbly bunch of creatures, but she could see why most other races found them to be so charming.

"It's been a while hasn't it Ffam--er, Balthier kupo? I thought I'd seen the last of you in that forest."

"Yes well…" Balthier answered coldly, as he remembered Nono had abandoned him early on in favor of building a bungalow with his friends. "I was lucky enough that Fran here _**stayed**_ and _**helped**_ me."

"Really? Kupo." He answered, not at all aware of Balthier's growing annoyance. "Is that her?" He pointed Fran standing behind him. Fran folded her arms and watched.

"Yes. Fran, this is Nono."

Fran nodded in greeting.

"…" Nono squinted his beady eyes and examined her.

"…"

"Hello, kupo."

Balthier rolled his eyes. "Well, it was excellent running into you, but we've got to be going."

"Really? Kupo. But we've got so much catching up to do! What brings you here to the junk yard?"

"I'm doing a little remodeling on the Strahl here."

"Strahl? Kupo." He looked up at the great ship and nodded. "I like it. It suits it well, Kupo. What are you fixing?"

"A few…things." Balthier looked down at the moogle skeptically. "Why?"

"Well, Kupo," Nono said lifting his wrench from his pocket. "You're lucky! I've a little free time on my hands, so I can help you out for a little while. Consider it…an apology for leaving so early last time, kupo."

Balthier rubbed his chin. Even though he'd decided a long time ago that he wasn't going to trust Nono to be particularly reliable ever again, he decided that he could do with another helping hand. Even if Nono decided to leave early to take part in some other leisure related activity, the work he did do would help out.

"Alright." He shook his hand. "We'll begin first thing in the morning."

"Ku-po!" Nono said, running ahead of him.

Balthier shook his head. At least he was optimistic.

Fran folded her arms. "Are you sure this moogle will be of assistance?"

Balthier sighed, folding his arms. "Nono is a first-rate mechanic. He's very good at what he does. We can trust him to do a fine job. He just isn't very…dependable."

He boarded the ship, and waited for Fran to settle herself before starting the engine. He was certainly going through a lot of trouble just for a few improvements. However, as he noted the turbulence as the ship began to ascend, he decided that it would be worth it.

He waited for the engine to settle in gear before taking off to find some place to work in peace for the following day.

XxX

It was well into the night before Balthier decided on a suitable place to land, but he wanted to make sure he could focus all of his attention on the remodeling of the Strahl without worry of government…interference. He'd finally settled on the grassy planes of Eastern Valendia. He doubted anyone would fly over the area any time soon especially in search of a ship.

He didn't have the chance to examine the area as carefully as he would have liked in the dark, but now that it was morning, he could easily assess the area.

It was mostly grass land with a few trees here and there. It wasn't an ideal working space (he would have much preferred a garage, or at least some place with a little less grass), but it would have to do.

He stretched sitting on the wing of the ship, waiting for his friends to finish readying themselves. He heard Nono showering a little while ago, and Fran had readied herself before that, so he assumed it wouldn't take them much longer to finish.

He tapped his leg anxiously against the hard metal. He hoped they wouldn't take much longer. He wouldn't admit to being impatient, but as one with such a profound love for mechanical matters, he certainly didn't want to wait all morning to begin.

Fran emerged from the ship, and leaned against the side. "As soon as…Nono finishes showering, I would suggest we begin by installing the Magicite. It will likely take the most time."

Balthier nodded, and drummed his fingers on the wing. He was still showering?!

Fran couldn't help but let a small smile spread across her lips. She had only traveled with Balthier for a short time, but so far, she found him interesting to say the least. She'd traveled the Hume world for a number of years, with little idea of what it was she wanted to accomplish, just observing the customs of the Humes.

The stories her sisters told her of the terrible nature of the Humes were all she had to go by; stories that had been passed down through generations. However, none of them had ever left the Wood to know how truthful the stories were, and she began to doubt them. Perhaps they were over amplified tales of mild misconducts of Humes concocted by their ancestors to scare the younger ones into staying with the Wood. Maybe they were much worse than the stories suggested. She certainly wouldn't have known the truth unless she did a bit of research.

Nono emerged from the cockpit and shook a few remaining droplets of water from his ears. He narrowed his eyes at Fran for a brief moment before glancing up at Balthier on the wing.

"What are you sitting up there for? Kupo. We've got work to do!" He hopped down and made his way over to the back where the parts had been placed.

Fran could see Balthier tighten his jaw in an effort to remain composed, as he dropped down from the wing. He sighed as he passed Fran, and tried not to sound as agitated as he felt. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

Fran offered him a small smile as she followed him to the engine room. She wondered what her sisters would think of her now. Their strong, capable Fran had turned to a life of crime, traveling the open skies of Ivalice with a Hume… moreover enjoying it.

But there was something liberating about pirating.

Though they were technically taking the rights and earnings of others, it was the freedom she enjoyed the most.

She didn't have to listen to the widely exaggerated stories of her sisters, or follow the strict code of the Wood. She was free to determine what she felt about the Humes on her own. Sure they had their faults (as did all races, she found), but she believe she selected a half way decent one to travel with.

She halted her musings long enough to watch her partner as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and prepared to remove the old Magicite converter.

It seemed he wasn't completely useless either, and there was no doubting his drive. Over the few months she'd traveled with him, she found that he'd do whatever it took to get what he needed, or at the very least, remain grinning through slight humiliation.

It was a trait she hadn't seen much of in her travels, as most cultures she'd come across had something harsh to say about the government, or the terrible mess their lives were in. This Hume had decided he didn't care too much for current governmental trends and he set out to leave.

Perhaps it was simply because he was still young that he possessed that will to be independent. Youth tended to have far too much ambition and very little wit, but it didn't matter. She wanted independence too, and Balthier had brought that desire to light.

XxX

It was very late into the evening, but the alterations were finally complete. Balther grinned as he wiped the oil and grime from his hands with a towel. He stood back to admire the work he, Nono and Fran had put into the ship. Sure, all of the little things he wanted to fix couldn't be covered under one plunder, but for now, he could live with it.

"Well, Kupo, I'd say it looks excellent! It should run a lot smoother now, with the magicite, and I must say Balthier, nice touch with the copper paint on the wind guards. Classy, kupo."

Balthier shrugged. "It needed something. I don't think it would do to pilot an all chrome colored ship."

Nono wiped at a bit of grease on his nose only succeeding in smearing across his cheeks. "Well, it's been fun, kupo, but I've got to have a drink. I'll see you guys later." He waved good-bye to Balthier, and crossed Fran's path carefully, before waddling off into the unknown.

Balther sighed shaking his head. "I suppose he knows where he's going…"

Fran stood beside him, folding her arms. "Well then, are you proud of the work we've accomplished?"

He smiled, looking up at her. "I'm not complaining. Although…" He said rubbing his chin… "I think I'll work on the interior more when…we get some more gil."

Fran nodded. "I am curious to see the extent of the remodeling you intend to do."

Balthier lifted his brows in amusement. "Really? There's just a few things…the bridge…for starters…it's loose. Then I'd like to do something about those pilot seats. I think leather is a suitable covering. The ones now are far too cheap…vinyl I think… then of course, there's the shower, ugh…the water pressure is ridiculous…"

"Hm…we will need quite a bit more gil to make such alterations."

"Then I think we should get started." He climbed into the door, and extended his hand to Fran.

She smirked, taking hold of it and climbed in as well. "Perhaps we should start in one of your bars. There seem to be a lot of interesting rumors when enough of you Humes get together."

Balthier chuckled. "I'll take that as your attempt at humor, and agree. We'll find some place to sit in and listen in on a few treasure opportunities."

* * *

Alright! Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed it. Please tell me what you think.


	8. Resourcefulness

Ah, thank you all again for reading! I'm a bit late updating, but my schedule is getting a bit crazy. It's not because I'm being lazy for once (well…not entirely)

Disclaimer: I don't own FFXII.

XxX

Balthier sighed as he exited the washroom

Balthier sighed as he exited the washroom. A visible cloud of vapor blew through the door as he did so. He finished lacing his shirt and buttoning his cuffs.

The water pressure of the shower would be the next item to receive an upgrade once they'd cashed in their next plunder…and maybe some new tile too.

Running a hand through his slightly damp hair, he made his way across the bridge. From there, he could see the tips of Fran's ears from behind the co-pilot seat.

So she was already awake.

She must have risen quite a bit earlier for her to have beaten him to the controls, as it wasn't especially late when he'd decided to start the day.

He studied Fran for a few moments from his place at the edge of the bridge. She seemed rather pensive this morning. Her eyes were remained on the faintly light sky in front of her, and her body was tilted slightly to the left side as she thought.

Balthier made his way to the cockpit, mindful of the squeaky platform, and folded his arms over the back rest of his chair.

Fran looked up at him in one fluid movement, as if his presence hadn't disturbed her thoughts at all. Balthier shook his head. He was going to have to get use to the notion that she was constantly aware of everything, even if her mind wasn't focused on it. It was definitely a useful skill, but such awareness as a little unsettling.

He cleared his throat before looking out the window as well. It was early, and the sun had already started to rise. He supposed there was a certain beauty to it, but not one so important to wake extra early for. He looked at Fran out of the corner of his eye. "The washroom is free, if you're going to use it."

Fran nodded. "In a moment." She sat back a little, and continued to gaze out the window.

Balthier watched as she drifted back into her thoughts. This wasn't such an unusual answer. In fact, Balthier almost expected her to subtlety ignore him, but in an effort to understand his partner further (and due in part by his strange curiosity this morning), he decided to pry just a bit.

He sat in the pilot seat, and laced his fingers together behind his head. He pushed his earlier opinion about the view aside for a moment to open the door for his inquiry. "It's not a bad morning, is it?"

Fran blinked. A small smile appeared across her lips before she answered. "This is true." She thought for a moment before continuing. "I suppose views like this are sweeter when you rarely experience them."

Balthier nodded. "I can't imagine you've flown over many oceans." He shrugged. "Living in an area of constant greenery would make that a logical possibility."

Fran's tilted a silver brow. "Are you referring to the Wood?"

He shrugged. "I can understand your decision to leave. Remaining in one place for a long time…can get rather tedious…" He was quite aware of that sentiment.

Fran turned to look at him. "It is the way of the Wood. Those few Viera that leave are renounced. She forbids them from returning."

Balthier couldn't help but snort. "So, you aim to convince me that 'The Wood' speaks to you? As in, it's capable of forming words and carrying on comprehendible conversation?"

Fran grunted, her ears twitching in annoyance. "Not exactly…no…" She struggled to come up with an explanation that someone who had never experienced the manner of The Wood could understand. "She communicates, in a very delicately…in a whisper of sorts. Only Viera have ears sensitive enough to hear it."

Balthier nodded. He wasn't quite sure what she meant, but he didn't think any further explaining would make it any more sensible. "Well, it seems a bit pointless to follow orders from an overgrown plant." He shrugged. "I suppose you felt the same, as you're here with me instead of twiddling away in Eryut."

Fran nodded with a small sigh. "She didn't respond too kindly when I left…"

The sky pirate lifted a brow. "What does an irate plant sound like?"

Fran stared at him indignantly, before she answered. "…She wept…but however bitter sweet the decision to leave was, it was necessary." She sighed. "I will not return to that life."

Balthier examined her closely. For the first time, he could see a distinguishable emotion on her face. It wasn't overtly clear, but he could tell by the slight tightness of her jaw and small arch in her brows that she was a little troubled.

It struck him. He would take her puzzlingly blank expression over this mildly bothered one any day.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'll try to make your sacrifice worth it then."

Fran lifted her face to just slightly, and offered him a brief smile before standing. "I trust you will." She stretched slightly before walking to washroom.

XxX

Balthier decided it was high time that they continue with their gil retrieving exploits. He didn't have the slightest hint as to where a sizeable amount of treasure would be stowed away, so he decided the best way to gain any insight would be to travel to a tavern. He knew there were scores of people that flooded in and out frequently, and where there were people, there was information.

Of course, it wasn't that long ago that they'd run into a rather ingraining bit of trouble in a similar institution involving a certain Bangaa. Balthier was well aware of this when he first planned to visit this tavern. However, the information gained at such places was invaluable. He wasn't going to let one (extremely terrifying) experience deter him from the possibility of riches.

They stopped at a town near the East coast of Ordalia. It was a port town, so the mix of people of various cities, classes and professions was quite robust.

The air had a definite marine scent to it, but the odor wasn't too overbearing. In fact, it was a little refreshing in comparison to the dusty atmosphere the two had been traveling through of late.

Balthier grunted as a sailor carrying a suspiciously lumpy sack bumped into him. The man offered a gruff "Move" before continuing on his way to the dock.

That was the third time someone had run right into him!

Balthier rubbed his shoulder with irritation. It may have been a nice town for gathering information, and a _little_ less dusty than the last town, but the place had plenty of negatives.

Fran looked at him with a small smirk. "We should get to the pub quickly, lest something tragic happen to you."

Balthier snorted, ignoring her comment. "I imagine it isn't too far away." He took a moment to scan the light crowd. He could make out a row of shops a little further ahead. As they worked their way through the people, he could make out the specifics of each building. One was for a wide range of groceries, another for various types of fish, and at the very end, there was a shop with the very characteristic Balthier was looking for: a group of wobbly men who sang folk songs in a key all their own all the while tripping over their feet.

A bar trademark.

"I believe we've found our pub." He said triumphantly. He led Fran toward the area.

Before they were even at the door, Fran's nose twitched. The smell of salt air, smoke and especially strong spirits didn't mix well with her senses. She looked at her partner as he corners of his nose twitched, but he entered in with little hesitation.

She forced herself to follow him inside, feeling just a little ill as the scent of liquor, salt and sweat hit her at full force.

Balthier paused, and frowned. He could see the definite uneasiness in Fran's face. "Are you alright?"

Fran nodded. It was times like these that made her miss the fresh floral scent of The Wood. Humes produced some ghastly smells at times. "I will be fine."

Balthier nodded and chose a table just a little ways away from the bar. They were in earshot of whatever the barkeep happened to say, but far enough in the crowd to where whatever they discussed couldn't be heard without some difficulty.

Balthier sat facing the bar, and Fran sat in front of him, folding her long arms across the table top.

"All we need to do now is wait for someone to mention a topic of interest," he said with a grin.

Fran didn't seem to like the plan at all. A firm frown curved her lips. "I don't think that will work out as well as you seem to think."

Balthier frowned. "I can't think of a better way. It wouldn't be wise to go up and _ask_ him where we could find some treasure. That would most likely give away our…profession." He sighed looking around. "We'll just wait for a little while. It shouldn't take too long."

A small smile crossed his lips. "Of course…" he tipped his head toward a pair sitting a few tables away. They sat close, eyes darting back and fourth nervously as they spoke quietly. "Since you aren't using your senses to pick up the delicate sounds of whispering vegetation, you can use them to pick up on…conversations."

Fran sent him an indignant glare, but she couldn't deny that it would get them out of there faster…

Wordlessly, she focused in on the conversation.

Balthier watched as her ears twitched. Hopefully this would turn out well. He was eager to get started.

A moment later, Fran turned her attention back to him and glared.

"I'm not sure what a very long list of numbers, the color yellow, and the market value for Behemoth fur has to do with treasure. Unless you Humes believe colors and numbers have some sort of direct monetary value, it is a code."

Balthier growled. "Well, there are at least half a dozen more tables with shady bandits. Perhaps one of them will produce some information we can use."

Fran exhaled silently, and turned her attention to another table.

XxX

Nearly thirty minutes later, a slightly pale fleshed Fran had listened in on every conversation within the bar. Of all the discussions, five were spoken in code, three involved a black market scheme, two involved a woman, and the rest were drunken slurs Fran couldn't even begin to repeat.

Balthier drummed his fingers in irritation on the rickety table. All those discussions and not one of them could help in the least. Breaking codes could take a significant amount of time, and they'd been there long enough. The smell was ebbing at his senses too. "Alright Fran, we move to plan B immediately." He shifted his gaze to the bar.

"And that is?" Fran asked crossly.

"We bait the bartender." He answered in an annoyed grunt before standing and making his way to the bar. Fran followed.

The old man tending to the drinks was engaged in conversation with a pair of bar goers, laughing heartily. He slapped the counter with his thick wrinkled hand as the two got up to leave, but as soon as Balthier chose a seat, he was immediately silent.

He looked at Fran oddly for a moment, before shaking his head, and muttering something under his breath. "What'll you have?" He asked after a time.

Balthier sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was best to get this done and over with. "A tall glass of your--."

"We've only got ale here. One type." His reply was short.

Balthier nodded. "Okay, I'll take two then." Perhaps this was going to be a bit harder than he thought.

The bartender lifted one of his hairy brows at the two, shrugged, and filled two mugs of frothy ale. He slid them down the counter, and Balthier grabbed his, and slid Fran's toward her.

The Viera wrinkled her nose at the drink before picking it up. She imagined it would have made a much better impression if she partook, but the smell was almost unbearable.

Balthier slid the mug across the counter between his palms as he mentally refined his plan. It was a given he knew something, but the man seemed to be rather tight lipped. He kept his eyes low, and concentrated on the mug he was filling. Of course, he knew he wasn't going to give up such information easily, and that was why Balthier had to play his cards very carefully.

He took a sip of the ale, trying not to cringe at its strong bitter flavor and tried to speak evenly. "It's kind of busy today."

The tender shrugged before voicing a simple "Eh."

Balthier nodded. "It's my guess they've just got in some big shipment of--what's the main trade ware here?"

The bartender paused and eyed Balthier suspiciously before answering. "…Fur, leather and the like." When he seemed convinced that Balthier was genuinely interested, he continued slowly. "It's doing quite well this season."

"Really?" Balthier asked, sitting back in his chair a little.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Lotta people comin' 'ere tryin' to make money. It's natural for us to have a lotta wares with so much interest these days."

Balthier offered him a shrug. "We're looking for a way to make a little gil, but fur trading isn't something we're…qualified for."

The bartender put down his glass, and faced Balthier, curling his lip. "I don't know what kind of business you're lookin' for, but I ain't runnin' any kinda scheme here. What the customers talk about ain't got nothin'—"

"We're mechanics." Fran answered, leaning in a little. "Nothing too high paced for us."

"Oh." The bartender said. He nodded, and picked up a glass to polish. "Well, you ought to take up a job like bartendin' then." He chuckled. "Not much to do in the action department unless there's a fight." He set the glass down and rubbed his chin. "Cept, you look a little young for that though." He shrugged. "Might wanna consider it in a few years. Never a shortage of people that want a little liquor."

Balthier looked at Fran briefly before answering with a smirk. "I'll look into it. It seems steady."

"Sure is. Ain't like them marks, or nothin' or them kids that go out lookin' for treasure…"

"Treasure?" Balthier's eyes lit up at the mention of his prize.

The tender frowned, and Balthier caught himself. He took another sip of the ale and tried not to sputter. "--I heard a few people were interested it on my way in. Is there really anything like that here?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, and focused back on the glass.

Balthier grunted. This would require a bit more word maneuvering. "Well, either way, I leave that kind of lunacy to the people that haven't quite found what it is they're good at."

The bartender nodded. "That's right. Ain't got nothin' securing them someplace. That kinda thing is dangerous, they're just throwing away their time like they got it to spare…'Sides, no one ever said what they were lookin' for is actually worth it. It's all a big gamble."

Balthier nodded, having a difficult time agreeing with sentiments he hardly believed, but did so for the benefit later on. "I heard there was kind of a hot spot for treasure a little to the…West?" He shrugged. There's nothing but desert over there. I can imagine how dangerous it is." It was time to start getting some results.

The bartender looked quizzically at Balthier for a moment before scratching his chin. "I don't know nothin' 'bout that. Most of the younger ones come in here braggin' 'bout how they're going to get the one South of here." He waved his rag around. "Somethin' about a cave…I can't remember the whole story. Either way, it's cold business down there. Nothin' but them Yetis 'n things." His eyes bugged a little, and he shook his head. "Whole nest of 'em. Right around that cave…Southern part. In the…Silver…Sliver something." He tapped his chin. "Silv—Silver Flow!"

And for the kill…

"Has anyone found it yet?"

The old man shook his head. "I can't say I've heard anyone has. Too dangerous." He leaned back a little, a reminiscent gleam in his eyes.

Balthier nodded. "I see. Well--."

"I remember this one time, a few years ago, a buddy 'a mine went out there, on a…a…campin'—"

"I—"

"No no, it was a dare! A dare."

"We've really got to be moving..." Balthier said, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face. It disappeared shortly, however when he reached in his pockets for some gil to pay with.

Fran shook her head before placing a small handful of gil on the counter.

"What's that?" He asked, snapping back from thoughts as the gil hit the surface. "Oh yeah…" He shrugged and pocketed the gil. "We'll see ya later."

Balthier nodded, and followed Fran who was already a few paces in front of him. When she pushed the door open, she at once felt the salty afternoon air cleanse her lungs of the potent bar fumes. After a few breaths, the color returned to her cheeks. Balthier wasn't aware of the oxygen he was lacking until he stepped outside. There was just enough difference in the atmosphere to make him slightly light headed for a moment.

The two took a few moments to re-orient themselves with normal atmospheric gasses before proceeding back to the Strahl.

Balthier grinned. That information was extracted in due time, and before long, he would be rewarded with properly pressured water in the shower.

"Not a bad job Fran. It seems we have a rather good lead on some treasure."

Fran nodded, she couldn't help but feel a slight bit of satisfaction in the fact that the plan had worked. Occasionally, she would have to admit her partner was quite sensible. She was a little excited about the next hunt as well. Since the treasure was so hard to retrieve, it would add a bit of prestige to their skill.

Balthier plopped down in the pilot seat. "I'm glad I bought a few extra shirts and some more bullets before we decided to repair the ship. I fear we wouldn't be allowed to consider such a thing if I hadn't."

Fran frowned. "Perhaps we will need more."

* * *

And that concluded chapter 8. Whew…please take a few minutes to tell me what you think!


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